Complete Confidence in the Continued Absurdity of Whatever is Going On
by window78
Summary: In which the survivors of the Homestuck Universe are introduced to the products of their creation: the constantly self-destructive world of Entropy, and a few of its' probably-not-entirely-sane residents, such as displaced sister and brother Jam and Bug. Confusion ensues.
1. Of Endings and Beginnings

_Hello, good peoples of the interwebs! As this is my first fanfiction, your patience, helpful advice, and kindness will be much appreciated. Thank you, and good day!_

 _All characters and worlds not Homestuck are of my own invention. All Homestuck characters and places are the intellectual property of Andrew Hussie. I don't own any rights to Lego, Minecraft, or Terraria, either, but I'm much too lazy to list all of their respective owners._

 _The story is set directly after the Homestuck Bunch has won the game and entered their new universe._

* * *

The little blue-green planet, on its' first day in this universe, went largely unnoticed. This was because most people were rather preoccupied at the moment.

The apocalypse, you see, was nigh.

Again.

Our planet is named Entropy, and we don't think it likes us. Every so often, it decides a change of scenery is in order. This was the fifty-third time in its' recorded history that it had done so, and, much like the fifty-two times before it, the random shifting and cracking of the continents brought war and destruction around the world, swallowing countries whole, as refugees fled, chaos in their wake. Hundreds of thousands of people, not fast enough to escape, perished. Not all who stayed behind, however, were consigned to death; certain pockets of life survived the massive tremors. In a way, the wide scale of the quakes ensured their survival; spread over a wide area, much of the flora and fauna, as well as a few lucky buildings, clung tenaciously to their existences.

I and my younger brother were two of the lucky few to find ourselves in such a pocket, along with a number of, shall we say, eccentric acquaintances. We had managed to set up a workable base of operations for ourselves in a section of an abandoned motel, complete with plumbing (achieved via creative butchery of the less usable rooms) and a couple of small salvaged generators- one solar, one hand-cranked. Most importantly, however, the motel- named the Blue Spruce- had a store of canned and dried foods, enough to last until we could set up means of providing for ourselves. Of course, what really sold us on the place was its' working waffle maker.

You don't just pass up free waffles.

We still hadn't noticed the brand new celestial object. Give me a break, we were busy. The process of rigging up the plumbing took some trial and error; in fact, more of the latter than the former. (I promise we didn't MEAN to blow up that toilet; if anyone asks, it was like that when we got here.)

I also salvaged for myself an old, beat up laptop computer; I call it the 'Shocktop' for its' slightly distressing habit of randomly throwing out sparks from its' mangled disc port. It's a dingy green color; I'm not certain it was SUPPOSED to be that color, as I'm not entirely convinced that the substance coating it is actually paint, but I suppose that that's just gonna be how it is. The screen goes purple if you place it at the wrong angle, and it starts putting random pixels in strange places if its' leaned too far to the side.

I love it so much. Its' got Minecraft _and_ Terraria on it. Jackpot.

... Maybe I ought to introduce myself. I'm called Jam- short for Jasmine Carmichael. Its' an old nickname that my kid brother gave me back when he was too little to pronounce 's' sounds. Somehow, it stuck. (Still, its' better than when the short phase in which he called me 'Jammin'.) I'm sixteen, reddish-brown haired, medium height, with grey eyes. (I have a clump of shorter hair in the back which sticks straight up, thanks to my dearest, darlingest, dangdest little brother and the 'Weed Whacker Incident'.) I like scavenger hunts, the occasional video game, and search-and-find books (I do, in fact, know exactly the elusive location of Waldo,) and I absolutely hate cauliflower. The things taste of cardboard and the broken dreams of children.

My brother's name is Bug, short for 'Bughford'. He hates his full name, and I can't really say I blame him. He's twelve, slightly shorter than I am, and has the same hair as I do, except shorter. He has hazel eyes, except the left one is much lighter than the right; he took an unfortunate blow to the head once as a small child, and for some reason his eye changed color. I... really don't know what the deal was with that. He enjoys legos and anything with caffeine in it. He dislikes snakes, and is claustrophobic. We only just found that out a few days ago, when he got left inside one of the side rooms while we were exploring the rest of the structurally sound rooms. It wasn't good.

Of course, now that we've been properly introduced, we can get on to business! You see, we eventually DID notice that new little blue-green planet- or, alternatively, we tripped right over it. Or tripped over a portal onto it, anyway. All I know is that yesterday, the Blue Spruce had a pool that we were PLANNING on cleaning out and using. It was very inconsiderate of it, really, to turn into a circular, glowing window into another world.

What was even MORE inconsiderate of it was when it started spitting out teenagers.


	2. Space Invader

In retrospect, it was probably a mistake to let the single least friendly- or sane, for that matter- person I know handle diplomatic relations with our first visitor from another planet.

It was Chelsea who dragged in the first extraterrestrial visitor, and I really do mean 'dragged'. She had the grey-skinned… girl? I think? (Were those… _horns_ sticking out of her head?)... by the back of her shirt, and, though I couldn't see her eyes behind her pointy red glasses, I had a hunch she wouldn't be happy about it once we'd pried off Chelsea's iron grip and let her breathe again.

Chelsea is a tall, wiry girl with Irish ancestry, and the curly red hair to prove it. She spends most of her time working on the wiring and mechanics in our makeshift home; she's really very good at putting things together. In her free time, she likes to read mystery books, or do complicated puzzles. By herself. She won't ever let anyone else help.

Chelsea, you see, doesn't have a real talent for making new friends. She's intelligent enough when she's being rational, or working on something, but that doesn't stop her from scaring most people off from even trying to be her friend. She's a little bit… standoffish, at times. The rest of the time, she's completely paranoid. She's our resident conspiracy theorist, and she can get carried away easily. The first time she heard Bug's name, she spent the next few hours checking all of her stuff for surveillance devices. She still isn't entirely convinced of his innocence.

Bug, it should be noted, isn't fond of Chelsea. This is because Chelsea has a history of periodically erasing the memory on all of his devices, convinced that somewhere, somehow, he's plotting her untimely demise. We finally managed to get her to promise to stop after she permanently disabled his phone from calling anyone; she'd finally managed to incur MY wrath. That phone was a gift, dang it! It was expensive, too. She may be suspicious of Bug, but she knows very well that I'm the one she'd have to deal with if she ever actually hurt him, and I can be fairly vicious when I'm angry. After that little incident, I sort of became a roadblock for her insanity; she can't convince anyone of her suspicions without going through me first.

"Jam! We've been invaded by aliens!" She yelled as she saw me. She brandished said alien at me as she said so, like she was presenting evidence at a trial.

"Aliens? Plural? You've only got the one…" I probably shouldn't have been being sarcastic at the moment, but it was hard to feel threatened properly when the invader in question was being dragged around by the scruff of her neck. "Alright, who's this? Let her breathe, Chelsea."

Chelsea looked horrified. "What?! No! She could be dangerous!" Her yelling was bringing attention from the others. Bug appeared from around the corner, confused. "What's up with all the yelling? Does she have a reason this time? Or did she find a suspicious pattern in the ceiling tiles again?"

He took in the scene. "...Who's that?" He then realized (based off of unfortunate personal experience) that Chelsea had likely half strangled the alien by now. "Ye gods, Chelsea, don't kill her! Let go!"

Between my and Bug's efforts, we managed to release the stranger, and we held Chelsea back as the strange girl caught her breath.

"J3GUS, WH4T TH3 H3LL?!" She yelled. I had been right- she wasn't happy. Busy as we were restraining our dear friend Chelsea, we couldn't stop her from dashing back outside, retreating back to whence she had come through the portal that had so rudely eaten our pool.

"See, now look what you've done! She's gonna come back any minute with an army of space invaders, and I haven't even got my pistol since you confiscated it! We're doomed!" Chelsea wailed. Bug and I shared an exasperated eye roll. I decided to take charge. "Hey, could you go round up the others? We need to figure out what all that was about," I said, not trusting Chelsea with the task. "And Chelsea here may be right about them attacking us, considering she just tried to strangle a teenage girl and all. I'll stay here and restrain Chelsea in case that girl or any other aliens come back."

Bug nodded and dashed off to rally the troops. Chelsea folded her arms and glared at me, muttering under her breath about alien invaders. I heard voices outside; I didn't recognize them. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do about that. Part of me, I'll admit, wanted to take the easiest option and let Chelsea scare them off.

We were about to receive guests, with only myself and Chelsea, of all people, here to greet them. I interposed myself between Chelsea and the door. Yes, that a little risky on my part. Chelsea is fully capable of causing people who get in her way serious injury. On the other hand, she could cause an intergalactic incident if I let her have free reign. I did NOT want to give her a clear shot at the new people.

Yeah, in retrospect, I really should have just bopped her on the back of the head at the very start.


	3. The Jamkebab Invention Prevention

So there I was, stuck between a surly conspiracy theorist and, presumably, the allies of the victim of her attempted strangulation, when suddenly I had a great idea. After all, it was only _Chelsea_ they really had a problem with, right? Wouldn't it… smooth things over a little bit if she wasn't present for the initial fireworks?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, would you _really_ fault me for shoving her in a nearby closet and locking her in just then?

Well, too bad, because that, my friends, is exactly what I did. It's a good thing this place doesn't have a downstairs, or she'd have been in for quite a tumble. And it'd serve her right. Freakin' maniac.

I had more pressing matters to worry about, though. The voices outside were getting closer, and although I couldn't hear what they were saying, I didn't think they were going to wait around for us to throw them a welcome party. They were coming in, whether we were ready for them or not.

I whipped around to greet our new guests as the door opened, ignoring Chelsea's muffled protests. (Hush up, you. Haven't you caused enough trouble already?) The newcomers filed in cautiously, the outlandish group ranking a solid seven on the list of top ten strangest things I've ever seen. There were five of them in total; a couple of them looked human, but the other three were very clearly _not_. Two of the aliens, one of whom happened to be Ms.(?) Strangulation Victim, had grey skin and yellow-orange horns. They all seemed to have black hair, and yellow eyes with black irises; each wore a black shirt with a different symbol on it.

The one who had entered first had a dark green symbol; her hair was short and styled, and she wore a semi-fancy red skirt. One of her horns curved up to a straight point; the other was kinked at the top.

Did… did she have _fangs?_

She was carrying what looked like a tube of lipstick; I suppose that explained why her lips were green. Huh.

(I wonder, is the Mary Kay Cosmetics corporation intergalactic? I should ask Chelsea sometime, I'm pretty sure she keeps an entire file of theories on that particular company. I know for a _fact_ she keeps a file on space and alien related conspiracy theories. I should probably confiscate that thing, in light of recent events, if only to prevent another fiasco like this one.)

The next one in was one of the human-looking ones. He carried a… _broken_ katana? And, oh my god, was he storming a potentially hostile base in his _pajamas?_ He had blonde hair and was, believe it or not, wearing _sunglasses_. Indoors. In his pajamas.

Pure genius.

Right behind him was our good friend Strangulation Victim. She, understandably, looked rather nervous, as far as I could tell given that I couldn't actually see her eyes behind her red glasses. Her symbol was a bright shade of teal, and her hair was short, but not so much so as Ms. Fashionista McFangs. She had short, pointy horns, like spikes in video games. She carried two thin swords with red handles; one had a dragon head on the end.

The next alien… I just… I don't know. Really. It- I had no clue of its' gender- had a shiny white carapace. Its' only facial features were two round, black eyes. It seemed to be wearing some sort of cloth wrap, swaddled into a makeshift cloak, or possibly a robe. What concerned me most, though, was the wicked black broadsword it hefted with ease. (I _can_ fight, but not at an expert level, and I have a slight aversion to having holes poked in me. I do not want to become a Jam-kebab.)

The last kid looked fairly normal, albeit clearly nerdy, with black hair, glasses, and an overbite. He was clad in a blue outfit; his hoodie had a swirly symbol on it in a lighter shade of blue, and he carried a brightly colored hammer, almost like some sort of oversized child's plaything. I'd say he looked completely human, except for the small point of interest that he was _floating_. Are you freakin' kidding me?! These kids can _fly_?! How in the name of cheese am I supposed to counter that? Jeez o' peets!

With Bug off rounding up the Horde, and my best, if completely insane, weapons specialist locked in the closet behind me (and not being let out anytime in the near future if I could help it), I was clearly outnumbered. Luckily, I am not easily cowed, even under trying odds. I had one last good trick up my sleeve before this mess devolved any further into chaos. I composed myself quickly, stepped forward, and, like some sort of excellent host, asked thusly:

"Hello, my name is Jam! Come on in! Would you like some waffles?"

After all, one would have to be a complete imbecile to refuse.

You don't just pass up free waffles.

 _Author's note: I still do not own Homestuck, or, for that matter, the Mary Kay Cosmetics Corporation, nor is it likely that I ever will._


End file.
